Magic Touch
by Somewhere's Sword
Summary: Bruce Banner was happy in his solitude; the other Avengers didn't hate him, he didn't have to keep running, and he and Tony were sort-of friends. However, he'd never anticipated the newest Avenger; Harry Potter, codename Merlin. Now a Twoshot! Slash, Harry/Bruce, Stony smut, tease!Steve. For Alfirin-Lover.
1. Harry and Bruce

_**Title:** Magic Touch  
__**Summary: **Bruce Banner was happy in his solitude; the other Avengers didn't hate him, he didn't have to keep running, and he and Tony were sort-of friends. However, he'd never anticipated the newest Avenger; Harry Potter, codename Merlin. For Alfirin-Lover  
__**Pairings:** Harry/Bruce, Tony/Steve, past Clint/Coulson (implied)  
__**Wordcount: **5057  
__**Disclaimer: **I don't own either Harry Potter or the Avengers._

* * *

The Avengers weren't particularly sure why they were being called for a meeting, but since no one was willing to argue with Nick Fury, they gathered at SHIELD headquarters anyway. Fury was already waiting for them, his expression not giving away anything. "You wanna hurry this up? There are many, many better things I could be doing with my time," Tony drawled in a tone that brought a flush to Steve's cheeks, even as he smiled faintly. Fury rolled his eye, getting to his feet.

"It has come to my attention recently that while you work very well as a team, you still aren't quite capable of tackling some of the… bigger threats to our nation," he remarked, giving them a pointed look.

"To be fair, that was luck on their part," Clint argued. "Bruce un-hulked unusually early, and Tony broke a jet boot."

"The point still stands; if that happens again, you might not be quite so successful," Fury retorted, walking over to the door as it opened. A young man entered, probably only 26 at the oldest, with messy jet black hair and a nervous look in his green eyes. "Avengers, I would like to introduce you to your new teammate," Fury announced, causing several jaws to drop. "Harry Potter, also known as Merlin."

"Merlin? Like the wizard?" Natasha scoffed, eyeing the newcomer skeptically. "He doesn't look like much." Fury smirked, and the young man's shy smile widened faintly.

"I assure you, Ms Romanov, I'm a lot more than I look. And yes, Merlin like the wizard. I thought it… fitting," he replied, his voice quiet, yet none of them had trouble hearing him.

"So what can you do?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow, eyeing the man appraisingly. The smile became mischievous, and Steve spluttered as he was suddenly rising off the floor at a steady pace. Tony's Armani suit turned into a garish pink-and-purple silk monstrosity, complete with matching hat, and with a quick flick of Harry's wrist, Clint's sunglasses flew off his face, morphing into a hawk which took off towards the rafters.

"The better question, Captain Rogers, is what _can't_ I do. I don't mean to brag, but… I'm the most powerful wizard since Merlin himself. There are few things out of my capabilty," he replied, holding out an arm for the hawk to land on, stroking its head gently.

"Change me back!" Tony demanded, staring down at himself in horror. "I've never even _seen_ anything so hideous; change me back!" Harry laughed, but obligingly waved a hand, turning Tony's suit back. He set Steve back down on the ground, and transfigured Clint's sunglasses back. Thor looked delighted, and was grinning widely.

"I have not yet met one of the magic folk since my arrival on Midgard, though the stories of your kind have pleased me since I was a child!" he exclaimed, reaching to grasp Harry in a firm handshake-hug. "I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, wizard."

"As I am pleased to make yours, Thor Odinson," Harry replied somewhat formally, though he was smiling. "I only hope I can live up to those stories; some of them are rather spectacular."

"So magic is real? As in, actual magic, not the science-magic of Asgard?" Bruce cut in, looking intrigued. Harry offered him a grin, releasing Thor's hand.

"Oh, yes. I'd be happy to talk to you further about it, if you'd like. Especially if we're going to be teammates," he added, glancing over at Fury.

"Well, I guess one more can't hurt. I'll have Pepper make up a room for him in the tower," Tony relented, making Harry smile at the acceptance.

"No arguments?" Fury queried, eyebrows raised. Everyone stayed silent. "Well, that was definitely easier than I expected. Get out of my office, all of you." Recognising the tone of his voice, the Avengers made to leave, and Harry paused when he felt a hand on his arm.

"I can show you around the tower, if you want? These guys will probably forget," Bruce offered with a slight grin, and Harry smiled back, nodding.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

.-.-.

Harry settled in at Stark Tower surprisingly easily; he didn't pick fights with any of the Avengers, and tried not to get in their way too much. As soon as it was revealed that he could cook, he earned several points in their books, and even Tony grudgingly liked him. Still, the person he got along with the most was definitely Bruce. He spent most of his free time down in the older man's lab, allowing Bruce to pick his brains on magical theory and inheritance, as well as borrow the occasional blood sample in an attempt to separate out the 'magical gene'. They'd had no luck so far, but Bruce insisted he was on the edge of a breakthrough. Harry didn't quite understand a lot of the genetics talk, but found it fascinating, and Bruce was captivating when he talked about something he was passionate about. Harry spent a lot of time trying to convince himself that he _didn't_ have a crush on the older man.

Wandering down to the gym, Harry smiled when he saw Clint already there, doing a series of martial arts sets. Waiting patiently for the archer to finish, Harry offered a friendly grin. "Fancy sparring?" he queried once Clint had straightened up. With having no enhanced strength and being about the same height as Harry, Clint was his most evenly matched sparring partner among the Avengers. The American was just happy to not get his ass kicked by Natasha for a change.

"Sure," he agreed, moving over to the mats. Harry followed, falling easily into fighting stance as Clint mirrored him. "So I guess you're our good luck charm," Clint mused, making Harry raise an eyebrow as he dodged a punch.

"Oh yeah, why's that?"

"We've not had any villain problems or invasions since you joined, it's got to be a record," the archer replied, weaving out of the way and catching Harry in the thigh with his foot. Harry returned it with a punch to the shoulder, before darting back.

"Then I'm glad to be lucky. Though I don't think Natasha appreciates it, or Thor. Both of them seem to be going stir-crazy in this tower," Harry pointed out, barely even breathless as he dodged and swiped at Clint. Clint chuckled, smirking.

"Thor and Tasha go stir crazy if we go ten minutes without action," he pointed out dryly. "They always do. They're the ones who don't have anything else to occupy them around here. Bruce has his lab and his experiments, Tony has his machines, and Steve has Tony. And his art, of course." Harry nodded; he'd noticed that, yes.

"Are they…?" he trailed off, unsure how to word it, and Clint shrugged after dropping into a low kick, which Harry jumped.

"Yeah, but they like to pretend they're not. It's obvious that they're ridiculously head-over-heels in love with each other, but Tony doesn't want people to know because he's sure it's going to come crashing down around him like all his other relationships, and Steve doesn't want people to know because he's from the 40s and being queer is a criminal offence," the American explained, calling time and straightening up. "If you wanted to chat, you should've just said so, wizard-boy," he teased, grinning. Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm just trying to figure everyone out," he defended innocently. "So Steve and Tony have no idea that everyone else knows?"

"I think Tony has some idea. He's a genius, he must do," Clint pointed out. "He's just wilfully ignorant. But we figured if they don't get their heads out of their asses soon, we're gonna let them know we're in on their little secret. It's not like anyone has a problem with it." His gaze narrowed, his expression daring Harry to say otherwise. The Brit smiled, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

"Hey, if I had a problem, I'd be a hypocrite. They're not the only ones batting for the other team around here," he assured. Clint snorted, shoulders relaxing minutely.

"Trust me, England; they were never the only ones. Hell, I don't think there's anyone in this building who _doesn't_, at least to some extent." He was smiling, but there was a sadness in his eyes that struck Harry, making him wonder what had put it there. Clint was very good at talking about everyone else without giving anything away about himself, and Harry wondered what his story was.

Before he could ask, however, both their Avengers bracelets started bleeping loudly, and Clint sighed. "Well, there goes our lucky streak. You'd better suit up, Merlin."

.-.-.

Harry's heart was racing as he followed Natasha and Bruce out of the quinjet, Clint and Steve bringing up the rear; Tony and Thor were making their own way. The two men landed smoothly by the group, and Harry rolled his eyes as Iron Man's head turned towards him.

"Looking good there, England," he remarked amusedly, making Harry's cheeks redden faintly. He'd forgotten how unusual his battle robes would seem to muggles; the tight black dragonhide trousers and fitted robe, his emerald green knee-high boots matching the inlay on his sleeves and robe front. Hermione had designed it, insisting that if he was going to be a superhero, he needed a little flare to his outfit. Still, compared to what Thor wore, it was fairly normal.

"You all know what you have to do?" Cap asked, bringing them back to task. Harry looked around, wincing at the smoking crater of the building before them. They were facing what they could only assume were aliens of a sort; huge, lizard-like creatures with large grey scales that, from SHIELD reports, were impenetrable. And, to top it off, they spat fireballs. Fantastic.

"Give me a minute; I like this shirt," Bruce said, hastily stripping his shirt over his head. Harry tried not to stare too blatantly at the doctor's tanned chest, but didn't think he did too well if Clint's smirk was anything to go by.

"I can look after that," Harry offered, already shrinking the shirt to put in his pocket. Bruce gave him a brief thankful look, then slipped off his shoes and nodded to Cap, a determined expression on his face. Cap smirked, sharing a look with Hawkeye and Thor, who were preparing to head up to one of the in-tact buildings to give Hawkeye a better vantage point.

"Let's go. Avengers, out!" Harry obediently ran with Cap and Black Widow, having practiced battle procedures a hundred times since joining the Avengers. He didn't look back to watch Bruce transform into Hulk, imagining it was a rather painful-looking event; he'd seen Remus transform, and that was bad enough. One of the lizard-things spat a fireball at him, and Harry extinguished it on instinct with a wave of his hand, ignoring the many onlookers gaping at him. So much for announcing him via press conference once he was settled.

They got lucky with the lizard-things, really. Thor accidentally discovered a sensitive spot on the underside of their jaws, and then it was just a matter of getting them in the right place. Hulk seemed all too enthusiastic to help, grabbing them by their tails and swinging them around so Iron Man could blast them. Harry winced as one swing brought the creature through the side of a building, whipping a hand out to hold the debris before it could fall on civilians, setting it down gently. "What the hell is up with Jolly Green?" Iron Man asked over the com, and Harry frowned; he obviously wasn't the only one noticing it.

"No idea, but he's going a little over the top. Iron Man, be ready to calm him down if he goes berserk. You might be useful too, Merlin; Bruce likes you," Cap instructed.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, shooting a blasting curse at the soft spot of a lizard that got a little too close for comfort. Several people screamed as one of Hulk's long arms reached out towards a lizard that was crawling towards the crowd, and Harry heard several curses in his ear as a couple of people got caught by the lizard's tail as Hulk dragged it away. Harry levitated himself easily, shooting several curses at once. The sooner they were done, the better.

.-.-.

With SHIELD taking care of the unconscious lizards and clean-up, the Avengers returned to the quinjet to head back to the tower. They were short one; Bruce hadn't de-hulked yet. Harry glanced back out of the window, worry clear on his face. "Will he be okay?" he fretted, watching SHIELD agents try and calm down the counterpart of his friend.

"He'll be fine," Natasha assured softly. "It's standard procedure at times like this. Hill will drop him home once he's back to himself." Harry wasn't convinced, but took his seat, grimacing when he saw he was bleeding sluggishly from a long cut on his bicep. He'd sort it when they got back to the tower.

The trip was short, and Clint and Natasha quickly made their excuses, slipping away to their rooms. Thor wandered off after them, and Harry sat down on a long worktable, carefully stripping his robe off to get a look at the gash while Steve fussed over Tony, helping him out of his damaged suit.

Harry winced as he held a hand over the gash on his arm, closing it up with a barely-murmured word. "Wow," Tony declared, watching as he stepped free of the last rocket boot. "That will definitely come in useful. Do me!"

"Well, you're not my usual type, but I suppose I could make an exception," Harry drawled easily, watching Steve go a mixture of embarrassed and angry, while Tony blinked, then smirked.

"I like this one, Steve. We're keeping him," he announced, obediently holding still so Harry could heal the cut on his jaw from where one of the lizards had smashed the faceplate in. "Now, if everything's good here, I need to go fix my suit." Wandering off, Tony left Harry and Steve alone, and Harry took pity on the jealous-looking blonde.

"Hey, I was just kidding when I said that earlier. About Tony," he assured, offering a small smile. "He's the type I try and avoid going for."

"Oh yeah? What type is that?" Steve asked evenly, trying to give off a 'why should it matter to me?' vibe and failing spectacularly.

"Obviously in love with someone else," Harry replied, smirking when the super-soldier's eyes went wide.

"You _know_?" he squeaked out, clearly alarmed. Harry rolled his eyes, slipping his feet out of his boots.

"Hate to break it to you, mate, but we _all_ know. You're both a little obvious," he pointed out. "For the record, I'm happy for you both; you're great together. And if you wanted to snuggle on team movie night, no one would care." Smiling at Steve's bright red face, Harry picked up his boots and slung his robe over his arm. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go shower, then find Bruce." Hulk had seemed angrier than usual, and Harry was concerned. Not waiting for Steve's reply, Harry padded out of the hangar, heading for the elevator. With a quick detour to his room to shower and change, Harry grabbed Bruce's shirt from his battle robe pocket and wandered down to the other man's room. Knocking, he frowned when there was no answer. "JARVIS, can you tell me where Bruce is please?"

"Dr Banner has asked for privacy, Mr Potter," the AI replied, making Harry huff in frustration. He'd just have to look for him the old fashioned way, then. Pulling out his rarely-used wand, he set it on his outstretched palm.

"Point me Bruce Banner."

.-.

Following his spell, he eventually found Bruce in Tony's secondary lab of all places, white coat on and seemingly engrossed in something that looked far too high-tech for Harry to understand. "Hey," the wizard called softly, though he startled the older man nonetheless. Bruce's jaw was tight as he looked at Harry, his eyes darting round as if searching for an escape route. It hurt Harry more than he'd expected it would. "Everything okay?" Harry perched on a workbench opposite Bruce, trying to ignore his nervousness at Bruce's expression.

"Yeah, fine, just need some space," the older man replied, attempting a smile. Harry levelled him with a flat look, folding his arms over his chest.

"Wanna try again," he prompted, making Bruce sigh.

"It's fine, Harry. Nothing you need to worry about. I'm used to it," he insisted. Harry frowned, edging closer.

"Is there a problem with, y'know, the other guy?" he asked in concern. "He seemed a little more… frustrated than usual. Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" Bruce's fake smile dropped into a definite grimace, and he turned away.

"You don't have to be here, y'know. If you're freaked out. There's a difference between knowing about the other guy and seeing him up close," he pointed out. Harry's frown deepened, and he pushed off the workbench to stand opposite Bruce, leaning one hip against his desk.

"I'm not freaked out," he assured softly. "Don't be ridiculous!" Bruce bit his lip, looking wary.

"Don't lie to me," the scientist urged. "He's terrifying, I know he is. Especially today. He's not usually like that, but I've just been trying _so hard_ recently to keep him at bay so I don't scare you off. He doesn't like me ignoring him, and, well, I guess it's a little late to worry about scaring you." Harry sighed, lips curving into a reluctant smile.

"I'm not scared of the Hulk," he said firmly, looking Bruce directly in the eyes. "I have no reason to be. He won't hurt me because you don't want to hurt me. Besides, I think I could hold my own against him if it came down to it." The Hulk might be strong, but his magic was stronger.

"You're not just saying that to spare my feelings?" Bruce queried wryly, not looking convinced.

"Of course not. Is it really that surprising that I'm not scared by him or you? The others aren't, even Natasha's okay with him now," Harry pointed out. Bruce scoffed, giving him a pointed look.

"Cap's a genetically enhanced super-soldier who could probably give the other guy a run for his money, Thor's a Norse god, Tony's just nuts, and Clint and Natasha… I see the way they look at me after I come back to myself. They're not as okay with him as they pretend to be," he told the younger man. "So you don't have to pretend to be okay with it if you're not; we can still work together, even if you don't want to be friends." Harry shook his head slightly, gathering his nerve to take a leap of faith.

"I want to be friends with you, Bruce. Hell, I want to be more than friends." Before Bruce could properly comprehend what he'd just said, Harry darted forward, pressing their lips together. The kiss was short, and soft, Harry's tongue swiping briefly over the older man's bottom lip before he pulled away, smiling at the scientist's stunned expression. "And I think you underestimate yourself, and the rest of the team."

Not giving him a chance to respond, Harry left the shell-shocked man in the lab. In the elevator, he leaned against the mirrored back wall, coming down from the high of having finally kissed Bruce. "Merlin, he's going to hate me," he groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Maybe he shouldn't have been quite so impulsive. Getting out of the elevator, Harry headed for the kitchen, planning on doing a bit of baking to calm his nerves. He stopped in the doorway, seeing the room wasn't unoccupied. "Steve," he greeted, somewhat surprised. "Hey."

"Hey, Harry. I'm just taking some food down to Tony; he's all caught up with the suit, he'll probably forget about dinner," he explained, gesturing to the tray laden with food, a fond smile on his face as he talked about his boyfriend. Harry felt a pang of jealousy, but smiled through it.

"Of course. Come back in half an hour, I'll probably have some of those muffins he likes," he replied, reaching for the apron he kept on the hook on the back of the door. It was easy to find out each Avenger's favourite baked item, and maybe baking muffins for Tony would stop him from baking a small mountain of Bruce's favourite cinnamon buns to pre-empt an apology.

"Okay, what's up?" Steve asked bluntly, setting the tray back on the table as Harry grabbed mixing bowls.

"What do you mean?" Harry returned, attempting to stay innocent. Steve snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"You go down and see Bruce and immediately start baking once you leave? Something happened down there. You only bake when you're stressed out or it's a special occasion, and since I don't remember any birthdays coming up…" Harry wondered when he'd become so predictable, and resolved to watch himself better in future.

"I kissed him," he admitted, knowing that if anyone could keep his secret, it would be Steve. "He was trying to give me an out, assuming I'd be freaked out by Hulk and _want_ an out. He wouldn't listen to me when I said I wasn't scared, so… I kissed him."

"And did he… kiss back?" Steve asked, not looking surprised in the least. Harry _definitely_ had to watch himself better, if he was becoming so obvious even Captain Oblivious himself could pick up on it.

"I don't know. I didn't really give him the chance to," Harry answered, looking somewhat sheepish as he measured out flour. "And then I walked out, because I'm a colossal idiot."

"Hmm, I dunno, maybe walking away was the best thing to do," Steve reasoned with a shrug. "Give him some time to think on it without you there. Just have a little patience and give him some space; he likes you, Harry. He's a pretty smart guy, he's not gonna let the opportunity pass by him, even if his head's telling him it'd be better for you to let you go." His expression softened, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Reminds me a little of Tony like that," he mused quietly, and Harry looked up, curious. "Took me weeks to convince him I wanted to be with him. He kept insisting a guy like me was too good for a guy like him. Even now, I still don't think he believes me when I tell him I love him."

"But you keep on loving him anyway and hope that one day, he'll believe it," Harry finished knowingly, watching as Steve gave a wry half-smile.

"Pretty much," he agreed.

"How did you do it?" Harry queried, mixing muffin batter furiously. "Get Tony to agree to be with you, I mean." Steve smirked, his cheeks flushing lightly.

"Tony Stark is led by the head that is most definitely not sitting on his shoulders," he informed him. "I snuck into his room and got naked, he couldn't say no." Harry snickered, seeing how proud Steve seemed to be of himself for the move.

"Shame that wouldn't help me with Bruce. Sounds like fun," he replied with a grin.

"I don't know, it couldn't hurt," Steve joked, clapping him on the shoulder before turning back to his tray. "Just see how it goes and give Bruce some time to think. I'm sure he'll come round soon enough." Picking up the tray, Steve offered a smile before leaving the kitchen, and Harry sighed, looking back to his mixing bowl. It was a good thing Stark Tower had an industrial kitchen.

.-.-.

Harry's baking-spree lasted well into the night, and he tried not to admit how disappointed he was every time someone came into the kitchen that wasn't Bruce. Clint didn't seem too bothered that he was obviously using it as a coping mechanism, merely sticking his head in sporadically to make requests, and Natasha only hugged him around the shoulders for half a second before making off with a plate of fudge brownies and disappearing for the rest of the night. Steve dropped in regularly, when Tony could spare him for ten minutes, offering encouraging smiles and shoulder-squeezes, as well as boxing up some of the treats to make room on the worktops, washing cake pans and even running out to the store quickly when he run out of eggs. Steve was definitely Harry's new favourite.

Still, he went to bed after having made about three times his body weight in assorted baked goods, now all boxed up and in a neat tower in the kitchen, waiting for Thor to discover them in the morning and demolish at least half. He was up early regardless, muscles tight with anxious energy, and he went straight to the gym after getting dressed, not wanting to risk bumping into anyone in the kitchen despite the early hour. Heading towards the non-mechanical dummies Tony had made for him, he prompted one to life with a jolt of magic, and it stood opposite him, bowing to signify the duel. Harry was perfectly happy to let his magic loose as the dummy shot back spells in return, safe in the knowledge that no one else was around, and he wasn't going to hurt anyone. Spells bounced harmlessly off the shields he'd set up as he lost himself in the duel, hands a blur as he returned fire without stopping to think about what he was firing, driving himself on instinct.

The duel ended when he caught the dummy with a spell that had a little too much power behind it, and its head flew clean off, breaking the spell that kept it animated. Harry stopped, barely even breathless, and wiped the sweat off his forehead as he lowered the shields, wincing at the scorch marks on the floor and ceiling. He'd have to fix that before the others got up. "Impressive." His head snapped up at the voice, and his eyes went wide as he saw Bruce leaning in the doorway, still dressed in pyjama trousers and a plain white shirt. He looked tired, and his eyes were a little bloodshot, making Harry wonder if they'd both had the same troubles keeping them awake. "I guess we all forget just how powerful you are when you put your mind to it. You look so harmless." Bruce moved further into the room now it was safe, leaning against the rail of a nearby treadmill.

"Yeah, well, I could say the same about most people in this house," Harry reasoned in reply. Bruce grimaced a fraction, then shrugged.

"I suppose you could," he agreed. A long silence stretched between them, Harry wringing his hands nervously, before Bruce spoke once more. "I'm sorry about last night. I'm always… testy for a few hours after my transformation. Especially one as violent as that." Harry managed a half-smile, stretching out his legs a little before he cramped up.

"I'm familiar with violent transformations," he assured, and Bruce looked perplexed. "Did I not tell you my godfather's a werewolf?" The scientist's eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head.

"No, you didn't. Werewolves are real?" Harry grinned, nodding.

"Oh, yeah. Silver allergy and everything. So trust me, I'm not exactly unused to seeing perfectly lovely blokes transform into something a little more dangerous," he explained. Bruce bit his lip, obviously reminded of their conversation the night before.

"I really do want to apologise, though," he continued, but Harry waved him off.

"There's nothing to apologise for," he replied. "I pushed when I shouldn't have." Bruce smiled at him, crossing the distance between them.

"There is something to apologise for," he insisted, and Harry was surprised when the older man leaned forward, kissing him firmly. He only hesitated a fraction before sliding an arm around Bruce's neck, deepening the kiss, determined to do so while he had the chance. When they broke apart, Bruce grinned. "I'm sorry for letting you walk away last night without doing that first." Harry laughed, hope bubbling in his chest.

"Does this mean you believe me, then? That I'm not scared?" Bruce nodded, though there wasn't much conviction to it.

"I think you're somewhat unbalanced for not being scared, but I won't argue with you about it. And I have to say, after seeing your little light show just then, I definitely think you could give the other guy a run for his money," he reasoned, chuckling when Harry preened at the compliment.

"So… does that mean we can be friends?" the Brit asked hopefully. Bruce's smile turned into a slow smirk, and he wrapped his arm tighter around Harry's waist, pulling him closer.

"Well, I was hoping I could take you up on that offer of 'more than friends'," he drawled questioningly. Harry laughed, rolling his eyes and kissing him again.

"Definitely," he agreed in a whisper, beaming. He pulled away slightly, offering Bruce a grin. "Come on, let's head back upstairs. I'm starved, and you missed all the fun last night; there's quite probably about two hundred thousand calories worth of baked goods in the kitchen just waiting to be eaten." Bruce raised an eyebrow, but followed obediently.

"Wow, you were busy." Harry snickered, hand sliding down Bruce's arm to twine their fingers together, and his grin widened when Bruce merely squeezed in response. Even when they reached the kitchen and Steve was there, sat down with a bowl of cereal after his morning run, Bruce didn't let go of Harry's hand. Steve grinned at the Brit as Bruce rifled through the boxes of cakes and cookies in search of cinnamon buns, one hand still in Harry's.

"Good night?" the blonde asked with raised eyebrows, and Harry's cheeks darkened at the insinuation as he shared a look with Bruce.

"Not so much the night, but… definitely an excellent morning."


	2. Steve and Tony

**_Chapter Wordcount: _**_4443_

* * *

It had been building for weeks. Months, even. So slowly, no one could quite figure out when it had started. Steve might not have been the most observant man on the planet, but even he had noticed the prolonged touches, heated look, and tension thick enough to cut with a knife; Tony Stark was definitely just as interested in Steve as Steve was in him.

The blonde man wasn't completely sure what to do upon that realisation, and spent several hours in the gym trying to work out his messed up thoughts. When he'd first found himself falling for Tony, he'd taken it in stride, figuring it would be like all the other crushes and loves he'd had over the years; completely unattainable, but relatively harmless so long as no one else found out about it. It had been that way with Bucky, and Peggy, and he'd expected it to be that way with Tony. It had hurt, but he'd accepted it.

Then he'd begun to notice Tony's eyes lingering on him far more than they did on anyone else, and Tony began to make excuses to be around the tower when Steve was there. Though, if Steve asked, he'd drop whatever he was doing in an instant and walk around the city with him. It was hard for him to _not_ notice.

Tony didn't seem to want to do anything about it, though. Just as Steve was happy admiring from afar and cherishing Tony's friendship, Tony seemed happy to flirt but not too much, and stick to looking at Steve when he thought the super soldier wasn't looking. Eventually, however, things had to come to a head.

It happened on a quiet weekend, when the rest of the Avengers were away from the tower. Thor was visiting Jane, Clint and Tasha were on some mission in Cairo for SHIELD, and Bruce was in Washington for some genetics conference. Tony almost immediately retreated to his lab, and Steve decided to follow, having nothing else do to. Sketchpad and pencils in hand, Steve wandered down to the lab, seeing Tony engrossed on making repairs to the suit. Tapping in his entry code, he didn't blink at the loud blasting music, having gotten used to it. He sat on the spare chair a few feet away from Tony, propping his feet up on the desk and his sketchpad on his knees, getting to work.

At first he drew whatever popped into his mind; an interesting tree he'd seen the other day, part of a building he'd passed, a hand, a mouth, a pair of eyes. Eventually, however, his pencils started forming the familiar slope of Tony's brow and the mischievous tug of his lips, seemingly without Steve's consent. He was used to it, by now; Tony was always his default subject when he had nothing else in mind. Glancing up at the man in question, he began to draw from life rather than memory, neatly shading in the grease stains on Tony's forearms and the ragged hole in his t-shirt, paying particular care to the way his tousled hair stuck up every which way. He didn't need to have Tony in front of him to draw him — he had every one of the man's features ingrained into his memory — but it helped.

The only acknowledgement he got from the billionaire was the slight widening of a smile, and a brief glance. But Steve knew Tony knew he was there; he was explaining himself aloud, as he did when Steve visited, so the blonde could follow what he was doing. Steve carefully applied the last few finishing strokes to his drawing, then glanced at his watch and frowned, setting his sketchbook aside. "It's gone two, I'm gonna go get some lunch. You want anything?" he asked, causing Tony to look up.

"Uh, coffee, and… have we got any leftover pizza from last night?" Steve nodded, and Tony grinned. "Just bring all the pizza down, we can share it." Steve wanted to protest, to argue the merits of a healthy balanced meal, but sharing pizza with Tony meant sitting on the edge of Tony's workbench, which gave him a brilliant view of the other man's ass while he worked.

"Sure thing." Jogging up to the kitchen, he smiled at the mug of coffee already waiting and muttered a thanks to JARVIS, pulling the leftover pizza from the fridge and shutting it in the microwave. Balancing everything carefully in his arms, he headed back down to the lab, only to freeze in his tracks, nearly dropping their lunch. Tony had moved from his place working on the Iron Man, and was stood next to Steve's chair, Steve's sketchbook in his hand. It was open.

"You left it open. I, uh, couldn't resist having a look through," Tony told him softly, eyes still fixed on the book. Steve set down the pizza and coffee, stepping towards Tony. He winced when he saw the page the other man had it on; one of the charcoals he'd indulged in when particularly sexually frustrated, after sparring in the gym with Tony and then having the other man pressed close against him for team movie night. It was a drawing of Tony, of course; spread out on his back on a bed, naked and tangled in the bedsheets, back arched and lust on his features, the arc reactor drawn in careful detail. The same image Steve got in almost every one of his dreams.

Tony flicked through the rest of the book, seeing his own face staring back at him from almost every page. Plenty of them were normal, everyday poses; Tony working, or in the Iron Man suit, or on the couch in the living room. Poses he'd drawn the rest of the team in plenty of time. But there was an attention to detail he never gave the others, and then there were the less-than innocent drawings, of Tony in all sorts of positions and places, or just of Tony's face, with a level of accuracy he could only have gotten from staring for hours on end. Steve felt his cheeks burn, and Tony looked up at him. "You, uh, draw me a lot?" he asked, and Steve shrugged. He knew Tony felt it too, and he wasn't going to hide.

"You're on my mind a lot," he replied honestly, still blushing. Tony looked surprised at the admittance, then smirked, glancing down at the page it was open to. Tony naked once more, kneeling, hands tied behind his back with one of his many silk ties.

"Like this?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. Steve nodded once.

"Like that. And that," he added, turning a page to show Tony leaning up against a wall with his hand down the front of his jeans, head thrown back in pleasure. "But mostly like this." When he flicked the page once more, it showed Tony in bed, clearly asleep, his arm slung around the body of another man who could only be Steve himself. He didn't usually like drawing himself, but the image had plagued him for days until he'd put it to paper.

"You have a very active imagination, Cap," Tony remarked evenly, making Steve growl.

"Damn it, Tony, I'm done messing around!" he exclaimed, startling the older man. He pulled the sketchbook from Tony's hands, tossing it down onto the desk. "I want you. A lot. You have to know I do. And I think you want me too."

"You're Captain America, who _doesn't_ want you?" Tony retorted with a smirk, and Steve glared at him.

"Don't be like that, Tony." Daringly, he leant forward, capturing Tony's lips. The billionaire melted into the kiss for the barest second, leaning against Steve's chest, before jumped back as if burned.

"We can't," he said instantly, and Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why not?" he challenged, folding his arms over his chest.

"You're Captain America, paragon of all that is good and wholesome in the world. I'm Tony Stark; there are more videos of me naked on the internet than there are of me clothed, and I fuck up every relationship I've ever had. I can't fuck you up, Steve. I'd never forgive myself." The part about the videos wasn't technically true, not since Tony had gone and deleted all of those videos, but his point still stood.

"You think I care about naked videos of you on the internet?" Steve exclaimed. "So you have a rough past; that doesn't change who you are. You're a good man, Tony, and you're not going to fuck me up. Just trust me," he pleaded, stepping closer to take Tony's hand. "I really, really like you, Tony. I think we could have something amazing," he breathed, resting a hand on Tony's hip. The dark-haired man's eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment Steve thought he had it. But then Tony pulled abruptly away from him, shaking his head.

"I can't, Steve. Just drop it and move on. I'm going for a drive." And before Steve could stop him, he was gone. The blonde sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Damn it!"

.-.-.

Steve let it lie for a week before he started pushing Tony's buttons. In that week he barely saw the billionaire, even when the rest of the Avengers returned, though they managed to stay civil enough so as to not raise suspicion. Steve gave Tony earnest puppy-dog eyes whenever the brunette looked in his direction, and Tony eventually stopped looking.

After a week, Steve decided to step it up a little. He'd given Tony time to come to his senses, and that hadn't happened. Now he wasn't going to play nicely anymore; Tony had no idea what he was in for. Captain America definitely wasn't as innocent as he seemed.

It started with the t-shirts. Despite having been in the 21st century for a while, Steve still avoided shopping at all costs. The shops were a lot bigger than he was used to, and he didn't have a clue about fashion and things. So it was all too easy to 'accidentally' order a bunch of t-shirts off the internet that were a size too small. He wore them anyway, claiming not to want to waste them, and dug out the jeans Pepper had bought for him with the declaration that his ass would look 'incredible' in them. He'd almost laughed aloud the first time Tony had seen him in his new outfit; his eyes had very nearly fallen from their sockets. Still, Tony didn't make a move, though he did resume his staring. Steve counted it as a win, and implemented phase 2 of his plan.

Carefully tearing out several of his drawings of Tony from his sketchbook — the ones of Tony naked and begging for it in various positions — Steve began leaving them in places he knew only Tony would find them. He only had a few, having tried to restrain himself from that sort of thinking before, and so finally let his mind run rampant. Pulling up images from every dirty, depraved fantasy he'd had of Tony, he drew until his fingers cramped, loving the freeing feeling of being able to draw what he'd been longing to for months. Leaving them in Tony's room, or his lab, or his office, Steve grinned to himself, waiting for the blowout.

The first drawing Tony found was a fairly innocent one compared to the rest. It had been folded up and lodged in Dummy's hand mechanism, and Steve knew Tony had found it because the man came to find him in the gym, brandishing the paper with a sort of strangled look on his face. "What the hell is this?" he hissed, and Steve grinned good-naturedly.

"Well you seemed to like my art the last time you saw it, so I figured I'd let you see some more," he explained, watching an angry flush rise up Tony's cheeks. God, he was gorgeous when he was mad.

"Don't do this to me, Rogers!" he urged, voice desperate. "I told you, I can't. Don't mock me like this." Steve smiled, lifting up his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, knowing Tony's eyes would be trailing to his exposed abs.

"I'm not mocking you, Tony," he assured softly. "I'm just… letting you know what you're missing out on." He'd broken his own rules and drawn himself with Tony in a lot of them. It had been odd, drawing himself naked, and made him realise he didn't know his body nearly as well as he thought he did. Still, by the look on Tony's face, it was definitely worth it.

"Evil," Tony declared, eyes narrowed. He shoved the drawing in his pocket, turning away. "Evil." When he was gone, Steve allowed a triumphant smirk to cross his lips. He'd barely even started.

Planting the drawings continued for a good four or five days, the art getting steadily more explicit, and by the noises coming from Tony's room when Steve walked past, it was definitely starting to get to him. Still, Tony didn't crack. Steve sighed to himself as he drew — Clint, for once, sleeping on the couch with his head in Natasha's lap. The image had just been too adorable, Steve couldn't help himself — glancing across the room at Tony, who quickly looked away. Getting to his feet, he drew the attention of the rest of the Avengers. "Kitchen run. Can I get anyone anything?"

"Some more Pop Tarts, please, friend!" Thor requested, an empty box of them in his hands.

"Cheetos, please? Oh, and a Mountain Dew," Clint requested, eyes closed and Natasha's fingers carding through his hair.

"Tasha, Bruce, Tony, anything?" Steve queried. Natasha shook her head, and Bruce offered a smile.

"Just water would be great, thanks." Steve nodded, glancing to Tony, giving an innocent smile.

"I'm fine, thanks," Tony ground out, failing at sounding completely nonchalant. "But I'll give you a hand carrying everything." Steve didn't argue as Tony got up to follow him to the kitchen, shutting the door behind him as soon as they were both inside. "Steve, you're killing me here," he whined, sinking into the nearest chair and tugging at his fringe. "Do you have any idea how often I've had to jack off this week? I'm dying!" Steve smirked to himself, not letting his brain travel in the direction of Tony touching himself. He could dwell on that later, in the privacy of his own room.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Tony," he replied smoothly, grabbing Thor's Pop Tarts and Clint's Cheetos from the cupboard. Tony groaned, glaring at him.

"I had no idea you could be so cruel. Can't you just let it go? I already told you, I can't." Steve crossed the room, resting a hand between Tony's shoulder blades.

"I'm not giving up on this, Tony. I'm not giving up on you," he murmured, leaning down to press butterfly kisses to the back of Tony's neck. Tony let out a sigh, tilting his head to give Steve better access.

"Don't," he breathed despite his actions. "Please, Steve. I can't take it. I don't want to hurt you, but I can't take this anymore. You're just taunting me with what I can't have and I… I can't."

"The only person who says you can't have it is you," Steve pointed out, breath hot on Tony's ear. "I'm telling you that you _can_ have it. You already have me, Tony. You telling me to back off won't change that; I won't give up without a fight, and I won't let you get away without at least _trying_ for something between us. Surely you can feel this, Tony. We'd be incredible together, I know it." He could hardly believe those words were coming out of his mouth; hell, he could hardly believe a lot of the things he'd done in the past fortnight. But it was all helping him get Tony, and he couldn't be the shy, bumbling prude he'd been back in the 40s. Sexuality and views on sex had progressed, and Steve was perfectly happy to progress with them.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I just can't," Tony breathed, standing abruptly and getting a bottle of water and a can of Mountain Dew from the fridge. Steve sighed; he'd been _so_ close. But he let it go, nodding in acceptance.

"We'd better get these in to the others."

.-.-.

Steve was finally down to his last resort plan. He'd been hoping it wouldn't get that far, but he wasn't going to let his nervousness stop him. Besides, things would have ended up that way anyway, eventually.

He waited for another day in which he and Tony were the only Avengers in the tower. He didn't want any of the others accidentally walking in on him. It came a lot sooner than he anticipated — part of him expected Tony to make an excuse to go out when it became obvious they'd be spending the day alone together — but he didn't argue. Tony seemed surprised when Steve went down to the gym in the afternoon, clearly having expected more blatant sexual torture now there was no one to interrupt them. Steve merely smiled to himself, allowing the smaller man to think he'd given in.

He did actually spend some time in the gym, working up a good sweat before jumping in the shower, taking extra care when washing himself, knowing what he was about to do. He pulled on a clean t-shirt and jeans, not bothering with boxers, and started up towards his new destination; Tony's room. It was, as expected, completely empty. The bed was mussed, and there was a Metallica t-shirt lying on the floor. The lighting was low, and the room smelled like Tony; like engine oil and musk and sex. Steve smirked, remembering what Tony had said about having to jack off more than ever over the past two weeks. He stared at the bed, imagining Tony lying in it with his hand on his cock, and felt a definite stirring in his jeans. He glanced at his watch, biting his lip. He had to time things carefully, which was difficult to do with someone as predictable as Tony. Still, he'd prepared well; Butterfingers had Steve's last drawing to give Tony in approximately ten minutes, and if Tony followed the same pattern he had with every other drawing, he'd be retreating to his room for some 'private time' about five minutes after. That gave Steve around fifteen minutes to prepare.

Taking a deep breath, nerves fluttering in his stomach, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside. With only a small hesitation, he dropped his jeans and kicked them off, standing naked in Tony's bedroom. He couldn't help but glance at himself in the full-length mirror on the wall, and managed a tentative smirk, trying to imagine Tony's face when he came up to see him, both of them already turned on. Steve compulsively fixed his hair, giving himself a once-over glance. Not bad, if he did say so himself.

He tentatively crawled onto the bed, pleasant shivers running down his spine at the feel of the expensive silk sheets on his bare skin. God, Tony spoiled himself. Then again, he supposed when you had that much money, you could. Glancing to the bedside table, he smirked when he saw one of the most recent drawings resting there, slightly crumpled on one side where Tony had obviously gripped it. Arousal curled in his gut at the mental image of Tony masturbating to one of _his_ drawings, and he leant back against the plump pillows, unable to stop his hand moving to his cock, thinking of Tony in the same position. He didn't want to come before Tony had even arrived, but he was already wound so close from the weeks of sexual tension and teasing. He didn't think he could take much more.

"Hurry up, Tony," he breathed, tugging on his own balls to stave off orgasm. At this rate, all Tony would have to do is look at him for him to blow.

He didn't know how long he waited there, teasing himself as much as he dared, wishing Tony would hurry the fuck up, when eventually he heard footsteps in the hallway outside. He tensed, forcing himself to try and calm down, eyes fixed on the door. When it opened, Steve didn't look away from Tony, hand still on his cock and eyes lust-blown, and the billionaire froze in his tracks. "_Fuck_," Tony exclaimed, a definite quiver to his voice. "Just… fuck, _Steve._" Steve smirked, making Tony whimper.

"Have I got my point across yet?" he asked evenly, letting go of his cock to lean further back in the bed, unashamedly displaying himself. He couldn't feel self-conscious when Tony was looking at him like he was a gift from God himself.

"You… God, do you have any idea just how fucking _hot_ you look right now?" Tony breathed, taking a shaky step into the room. "No. Fuck this. I'm going to hell, I don't even _care_, there is a naked Steve Rogers in my bed right now." Slamming the door behind him, Tony practically ran towards the bed, kicking off his shoes on the way and crawling up towards Steve, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth. Steve moaned lowly, relief flooding his veins at finally getting what he'd been craving for so long.

"Glad you see it my way," he murmured against Tony's lips. "Now shut up and get naked, I want to see you." Glimpses in the gym showers and a vivid imagination couldn't compare to the real thing. Tony didn't waste any time in tugging his t-shirt off, struggling out of his jeans and underwear in one go and pulling his socks off, moving to straddle Steve with his hands on the blonde's shoulders. They both cried out at the contact, arching into each other. "I'm so close already," Steve admitted, hand sliding down to cup Tony's ass.

"How long have you been here? Tony asked breathily, teeth tugging at Steve's earlobe. "Naked, touching yourself in my bed, thinking of me."

"About fifteen minutes, I think. Been planning for a while," Steve explained, bucking when Tony's hand finally closed around him. "Fuck, yes! Tony, I won't last, I can't." He was practically sobbing, and Tony's hand on his shoulder tightened.

"Come for me, gorgeous," he murmured, and it was all the prompt Steve needed. He exploded into Tony's closed fist, coming harder than he'd ever done before, black spots dancing behind his eyelids. Even after he'd gone limp, shockwaves of pleasure still rocked his body, making him twitch. When he cracked an eye open, it was to see Tony had come too, dark eyes fixed on Steve. "You're going to kill me," he declared firmly, making Steve chuckle.

"But what a way to go, huh?" he joked, hands resting on Tony's hips, ignoring the mess between them. "Stop denying this, Tony. Don't assume we'll crash and burn before you've even given it a chance."

"But what if we do, Steve?" Tony asked earnestly. "What if I fuck it up and we hate each other and can't work together and you never want to see my face again?" Steve chuckled, leaning in for a kiss.

"I love you, Tony. There's no possible scenario in which I'd never want to see your face again." Tony gaped in shock at Steve's words, but the blonde ploughed on. "We'll probably be a little rocky at first, every relationship is, but if you just trust yourself, you won't fuck this up." He brought a hand up to wind into Tony's hair, pulling him closer. "Stop denying yourself what you want, Tony. You're hurting me more by pushing me away than you ever could by being with me." Tony chuckled bitterly.

"You say that now," he started, but Steve cut him off with a kiss.

"I've known you for a year, Tony, and I've loved you for more than half of that. If you were going to hurt me, you'd have done so by now."

"You don't understand, Steve. Everyone I love ends up getting hurt in the end," Tony protested. Steve kissed him again, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

"Maybe I'll be the exception," he argued. "God, Tony, I can't take it anymore not having you in my arms. Not after so long of knowing you feel the same; we'd be idiots to let this pass us by."

"Don't blame me if I fuck this up," Tony murmured, forehead pressing against Steve's. "And I reserve the right to say 'I told you so'." Steve blinked, hardly daring to believe Tony's words.

"Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully. Tony let out a breathy laugh, smirking.

"It's a 'Captain America is naked in my arms and telling me he loves me, I'd be an idiot to turn him down now'." Steve laughed, happiness bubbling in his chest, and leaned in to press a kiss to Tony's lips.

"Thank you," he breathed, holding Tony close. "I love you."

"I should be the one thanking you," Tony pointed out. "For not giving up on me when I told you to." Steve chuckled, fingers trailing down Tony's back.

"When have you known me to give up on anything?" he pointed out. He was already beginning to grow hard again, something that Tony noticed, his eyebrows shooting up as Steve's touch became far more sensual.

"Already? Damn, I love the super-serum," Tony remarked, making Steve snort. "And I won't say it often, you know I won't," he added softly, voice serious. "But I do love you."

"I know, Tony," Steve assured, leaning in for a gentle kiss. "Now how about we catch up on missed time?" he drawled, hands moving to stroke Tony's chest, carefully caressing the arc reactor. "I don't know about you, but I've been very… frustrated, ever since that day in your lab." Tony didn't need to ask which day he was talking about; his eyes darkened at the memory, and Steve smirked when the billionaire began to come to life against his thigh.

"God, those drawings… you have a talent, Cap. And I expect you to make every one of those drawings become reality," Tony ordered, lifting himself up to sit better in Steve's lap, rocking against him. Steve moaned, burying his face in Tony's neck.

"_God_, yes."

Sometimes, Steve's plans went _exactly_ the way he wanted them to.


End file.
